


Three Minutes

by kindofannoying



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Life or Death Situation, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofannoying/pseuds/kindofannoying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside, the car doesn’t look much like a car. Every seat except the driver’s has been ripped away, leaving shredded carpet and exposed parts behind. He sees it almost instantly, like in one of those ‘what’s wrong with this picture’ things Gerard struggles with before his morning coffee. After coffee, though, he has eyes like a hawk’s.</p>
<p>Frank thinks of Gerard, at home, in his studio, maybe in front of the TV. Maybe he’s getting coffee, or at the supermarket, or walking their dogs.<br/>He thinks of Gerard, and breathes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Minutes

**_Three minutes_ **

The gear is big and bulky, and seems to take forever to put on. They spend too long on it, and time is so precious. Frank can feel the seconds ticking by as two of the other squad members check him over once more. He wouldn’t even put it on if he had a say – he trusts himself, trusts his capabilities, trusts his instincts. But it’s the rules, it’s the procedure, and all he has to do is think of Gerard to remind himself why he ever obeyed in the first place.

 

The car is parked in a busy street near Frank and Gerard’s house, just outside a school. The kids are being evacuated out the back as he walks toward the vehicle. It’s so quiet. He can hear his own heart beating, sure and steady.

 

Frank opens the boot first. The call hadn’t been very clear, but from what they could tell, if there was anything – and even after all this time he has the guts to hope it was a false alarm – it would be in the back. It could be big, dangerous, but that’s Frank’s specialty.

 

Inside, the car doesn’t look much like a car. Every seat except the driver’s has been ripped away, leaving shredded carpet and exposed parts behind. He sees it almost instantly, like in one of those ‘what’s wrong with this picture’ things Gerard struggles with before his morning coffee. After coffee, though, he has eyes like a hawk’s.

 

Frank thinks of Gerard, at home, in his studio, maybe in front of the TV. Maybe he’s getting coffee, or at the supermarket, or walking their dogs.

He thinks of Gerard, and breathes.

 

 

**_Two minutes_ **

He pulls the carpet away to reveal the wires: reds, blues, and yellows. He blinks and focuses, recalling every little thing he ever learnt in the years he spent training. His head tells him yellows first but his gut protests, and he pauses. The clock is ticking. Every moment has to count.

 

The phone attached is cheap, a Nokia, rock solid and laced in with the wires. He thinks of Gerard untying the laces on his boots that time Frank accidentally got them into a big knot, he thinks of his long, artist’s fingers working at the strings, the way he gritted his teeth.

 

Frank takes a good look at the phone, and carefully snips a blue wire. _Gerard’s bed hair_. Nothing. He snips a red one, on the far right. _The first time he told me he loved me_. He waits, examining the phone with a well-practised gaze. This one feels different in his hands and he’s not sure why. That scares him. He can’t be uncertain, not now.

 

_That time Gerard spilt red paint all over my best white shirt_. He peers closer. _His stupid smile when he sees that I’ve come home before he has._ He takes a deep breath and snips another blue one.

 

**_One minute_ **

 

He can’t figure it out, not right away. His fingers fumble and his breath catches in his throat. _The last time we made love, how his hands felt in mine, his body warm against me as he thrust in again and again, saying that he loved me. The hickeys he left on my chest, the bite marks I left on his._

 

It should have been done by now. He can’t – he thinks he knows which one it is, but the timer is ticking down on the screen of that godforsaken phone and every time a digit turns over, all he can think of is Gerard. _Our wedding vows, our rings. Mikey’s speech. The honeymoon. The first dog we adopted, how Gerard thought she was ugly but I wanted her so badly that he grew to love her. Our house that smells like coffee and smoke and paint and_ us _, just us as we are_.

 

He lets Gerard crowd his brain for a moment, lets it fill him up as he leans forward, gingerly holds the wire in his hand, and snips.

 

_The ink stains on his hands and the smell of his skin and how he waves his arms around when he’s excited about something and the nervous grin he gives the galleries that take his work and how he can’t cook anything but toast (and even then he burns it) and his huge comic book collection and those fucking jeans he hasn’t washed for like a month that I keep on complaining about and his kisses when I leave and the promise I keep on making, that I’ll come home, how I promise him I’ll make it home no matter what happens to me today and how much I love him and need him._

_I promised. I fucking promised._

***

 

Gerard’s on his way home from the supermarket when he sees the street blocked off. He doesn’t think much of it until he sees the van – _Explosive Disposal –_ and then his heart drops into his stomach and he clutches at the wheel for what feels like eternity.

Frank doesn’t have to do this every day but people try to blow things up more than you may think.  And he doesn’t talk about what he has to do when he’s wearing the gear and standing beside something that could potentially blow him to pieces. He just promises he does whatever it takes to get him home safely, and it’s only at moments like these that it’s not enough for Gerard.

He pulls over, tugs his knees to his chest and waits.

 

** 

 

When Frank opens his eyes, he’s in the car, and the wires are slack in his hands. A SWAT team is racing towards him, and it’s only then that he finally breathes out. He slips out of the car and lets them lead him away, lets them crowd the vehicle. They get him out of the gear and he gets into his own clothes in record time. He’s finally left in an almost empty room nearby, and they give him space.

Gerard’s on speed dial, even though he knows his number off by heart.

‘Hey, Gee,’ he breathes into the speaker, ‘I’m safe. I love you and I’m safe.’

He doesn’t even try to stop the tears, and he can hear Gerard on the other end, crying quietly.

‘I love you, I love you so much,’ he keeps on saying, and it’s a long time before he’s able to stop.

                                          

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's an alternate ending here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/652889
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three Minutes (alternate ending)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/652889) by [kindofannoying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofannoying/pseuds/kindofannoying)




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